


A New Perspective

by ThePineCat



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, a very grumpy ghost, forgiveness (kind of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePineCat/pseuds/ThePineCat
Summary: When Marjorle finally manages to gain the trust of the vanguard (mainly a certain Andal Brask), she is given a task; take the ghost Poplar with her in her travels. Simple enough.Except it’s not.





	A New Perspective

 

Marjorle Thiv was tired. Winded. Exhausted. And desperately in need of a long, hot shower.

Being away on a mission for weeks did that to you. She was no hunter, and the wilds were not her home. Yes, she could appreciate the beauty of nature, even admire it, but to _live_ in it? That was a bit too much for the warlock. Now, all she wanted was to stand under the warm spray of her shower and wash the grime away.

Nearly tripping in her excitement, Marjorle made her way from the hanger to her room. Finally, finally, she could take a break. No more sleeping in her cramped ship, or shambling through the cold snow with numbed feet. Best of all, that ever-constant presence of hostile eyes on her back was _gone_.

As the warlock approached the door to he room, her ghost appeared at her side.

“It’s good to be home, isn’t it Spec?” She sighed merrily, gazing at the ghost with fondness in her green eyes.

“Yeah… sure is great.” Nervous laughter followed his words.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well. I just got a message. From Andal. He wants to see you, immediately.” Instantly, her face fell and a familiar hard-edged frown took over.

“What could _he_ possibly want from me?” She spat. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m showering first.”

 

“You’re late.” For once, Andal Brask didn't seem to be mad at her. Although, he really should have been. Marjorle had ignored his summons for hours before she finally gave in and went to see what he wanted. Like usual, the hunter vanguard was perched on top of one the roofs overlooking the tower courtyard. It hadn’t been very difficult to find him, for she knew his haunts well from months of trying to avoid him.

“Yeah, well, I just got back from mission. You weren’t exactly a top priority.” At her scathing words, the hunter let out a long sigh.

“Look,” Andal breathed, dragging a gloved hand over his face in exasperation, “I think we got off on the wrong foot here.”

“You _think?”_ The warlock replied, settling on the roof a respectable distance away.

“You’re not making this any easier.”

“You’d do well to remember that you were difficult first.” A warning crept into her tone; there was little patience left in her heart for the man before her. Balked, the hunter threw up his arms.

“And that’s exactly why I called you here! Listen, I want to _apologize._ ”

“For what, exactly?” Marjorle’s eyes narrowed. She knew exactly what he had done wrong— what mattered was if _he_ knew.

“For blaming you when it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.” Andal’s voice was soft; more so than she’d ever heard it be. It was a surprise, hearing the hunter speak without an accusing approach. Actual, genuine kindness was something the warlock had never seen before in him, and the shock of it left her silent. When she didn’t reply, Andal decided to keep going.

“Five of the guardians that we lost that day were hunters. I knew each and every one of them. To lose them all from a single mistake? That _hurt_ ,” he lamented, clenching his hands into fists, “and I took it out on you.”

There were several beats of silence as Marjorle processed the hunter’s admissions. On one hand, she felt that she could never forgive him. Yet, the sheer anguish and sorrow in his voice almost made her understand why he did what he did; and she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad.

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually. I was talking to someone who hated the Reef even more than I did. Hearing the things they said made me realize that I didn’t agree with any of it.”

“So you realized you were being a hypocritical idiot?”

“I apologize, and you still insult me?”

“Oh, no. I wasn’t insulting you. This is just my personality.” Marjorle laughed, delighted at how she could make him squirm. Andal gave her a blank stare in response, clearly done with her antics.

“So, uh, apology accepted?” He asked hopefully.

“You’re getting there. I’m not going to forgive you immediately.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to. Besides, I have a plan to make it up to you.”

“Oh? And what would this plan of yours involve?” Admittedly, her interest was peaked. The fact that he knew she wouldn’t forgive him right away spoke volumes about his character; he truly was sorry. With each passing moment, she couldn’t help but feel like the hunter vanguard wasn’t all that bad.

“There’s someone I would like you to meet. A ghost, actually. She was with one of my hunters. But uh, the guardian’s light went out a while ago, if you get what I mean. Things have been downhill ever since.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Marjorle couldn’t see how this related to her.

“I want you to take Poplar— that’s the ghost— with you. Help her get out of this tower, maybe look around a little for a new guardian.” Andal’s offer didn’t seem like a boon. Having a mopey ghost tag along wasn’t very appealing, but she could see merit in her involvement. This was a show of trust. Oddly enough, Marjorle was eager to prove herself, perhaps because she was never given the chance in the first place. Solemnly, the warlock nodded in acceptance.

“Good,” he beamed, “she’s waiting for us in the vanguard hall.”

 

On the way to their destination, Andal gave her a warning; Poplar was not a friendly ghost. At least, not since she lost her guardian. Nowadays she was hostile and apathetic, lashing out at anyone who gave her reason. It was no wonder that he was enlisting Marjorle, for the ghost sounded like a lost cause.

When they entered the hall, a familiar exo hunter approached them. Behind him trailed a surly-looking ghost.

“Andal! Just in time!” Cayde-6 cheered, clapping his friend on the back in greeting. Still in a half-embrace, the exo murmured in the other man’s ear. “Please tell me you’ve brought help.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out.” Andal whispered back as Cayde released him. When the exo’s gaze settled on Marjorle, he gave the warlock a nod in greeting, and a _look_ of pity. Great.

“Poplar, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Andal gestured at the warlock, “this is Marjorle.” For the first time, she got a good look at the ghost. Her shell was shadowy in color, with an iridescent sheen of dark teal and green. Four spikes emerged from between her nodes. And the eye— it was a vivid purple, much like Spectre’s had become after Marjorle threw her first nova bomb. So her guardian had been a void user, then. A nightstalker. At least they would have something in common.

“What’s the point of this, Brask?” Poplar’s voice was low and cruel, each word like the lashing of a whip. As the ghost looked at Marjorle, her eye narrowed in suspicion.

“You!” The ghost flew into the warlock’s face. “You’re from the Reef! Why are you here!” Never before had she been scared of a _ghost_ , but Poplar was practically bristling, shell expanded and cold void seeping between the cracks. Her voice had changed, somehow, ferocious and echoing with the fury of loss.

“Whoa whoa whoa, back up,” Andal interjected, waving back the enraged ghost with clear disappointment on his face.

“Warlock. State your intentions.”

“She doesn’t have to answer to you!” At her side, Spectre appeared, intending to protect his guardian.

“Spec. It’s fine, I can handle this.” Once her own ghost was placated, Marjorle turned to face Poplar.

“I have no loyalty to the Reef or their Queen. I was simply resurrected there and they provided me with basic supplies and a ship to reach the city.”

“I can vouch for her.” Added Cayde.

“As if _your_ word matters to me, gunslinger.” The ghost’s reply was scathing as she directed her cold gaze to the exo, who immediately shrunk back, hands held up in surrender. Inwardly, Marjorle laughed at the sight. Something in her gut told her that if she could get past Poplar’s spiky exterior, they’d get along just fine.

“Suppose you are just another awoken. What’s the purpose behind introducing us, Brask?” Here it was, the moment of truth.

“You are to go with Marjorle. Travel with her, search for a new guardian.” The way Andal spoke was different; he was now authoritative and unwavering like the vanguard that he was.

“You cannot command me like one of your hunters!” Poplar bellowed, anguish coloring her voice.

“I can. And I will. You were a hunter’s ghost, so I still consider you to be one of mine.” His voice softened as he reached out a hand towards Poplar. Tentatively, the ghost floated to hover over his palm. “It’s time for you to move on” Gently, he cradled the little light in his hands— and she _allowed_ it. So Poplar did have a soft side, and was only so prickly as a defense mechanism.

“I’ll try.” Despite her actions, the ghost’s voice was still hardened, an ever-present edge in her tone.

“That’s all I ask.”

“So, just to clarify; you’re giving me, the ‘awoken spy’, what is essentially two ghosts.” Marjorle interrupted, a sly grin on her face.

“I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you, little ‘lock.” Cayde came back sauntering over, leaning an arm on Andal’s shoulder casually. That arm was promptly shrugged off, with the exo feigning hurt.

“Oh no, don’t you dare start that.” Marjorle snarled back, subconsciously standing up straighter. Cayde was hardly taller than her; if it weren’t for that stupid horn of his they’d be of equal height. Yet, he always made a point to rub it in her face.

“Calm down, you two. There’s no need to fight.” Andal placated. Little did he know that they certainly would fight; it’d just be in the Crucible. The two of them had a habit of blowing off steam by trying to kill each other, and for the most part it worked. They were evenly matched, although Cayde was overall a much better shot, but her light was stronger. And if she could get him at long range— void, was he done for.

“Fine, fine,” Marjorle let out a yawn, still tired from her mission. “We’ll settle this another time, six.”

With that, the warlock turned and left the hall, heading towards her own quarters. Two ghosts trailed in her wake.

“So, Poplar.” As her name was called, the ghost zipped forward to float beside the awoken woman. “In the field, would you be able to make my light stronger, even if we’re not bonded?”

“No. That’s not how it works.”

Marjorle hummed in acknowledgement. “So, is there anything you _can_ do to help?”

“I can share my light with your ghost’s. But I cannot strengthen your light, or even heal you.”

“So by having you with me, I essentially double my reserves of light?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, the things we could accomplish. I can practically _feel_ the void calling to me.” Marjorle said with relish, an excited grin on her face.

“What happened to being tired?” Spectre pointed out as he flew up.

“Oh don’t you worry, sleeping is still my top priority.”

“Of course it is.”

As the warlock and her ghost laughed and joked, they failed to notice Poplar hanging back. A dark look overcame her, anger storming in her eye. Yet, she said nothing, did nothing. This was not her guardian; if Marjorle fell prey to the temptations of the void than it would not be Poplar’s fault. Not like last time.

She couldn’t handle that again.

 

Marjorle dreamt of exos in cloaks. She never saw their faces, but she knew what they were because of some innate feeling. Flashes of yellow, black, blue… Artificial eyes glowing in the dark. All of the pieces together meant Cayde.

But then she felt shock. Tingling, electric shock. Not Cayde. He was not of arc, and she was not of arc. Closer and closer the wild currents came, nipping at her heels and jabbing at her heart. She did not like them. She did not want them.

Still, they danced forward, evermore twisting and twirling in a fearsome display.

And then, a click. No longer was the arc an enemy, but a friend. By her side, a comforting presence. One split away, but still it did not lash out. Into her chest it went, infusing her body with tingling waves of pleasure. Blue eyes, boring into her soul. Yellow eyes, watching her back.

 _“Why do you hate…”_ a voice said.

“... _does it matter?”_ The arc left.

 _“I see the way you look at…”_ Now, she was alone.

_“You see… know…”_

_“Because you won’t tell…”_

She woke up.

 

“Fine! You want to know why I hate the Reef? Why I can’t trust your precious guardian?!”

“Stop screaming, okay?” Urgently, Marjorle rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Above her, two ghosts hovered, bristling with anger.

“I will not let you silence me like you silenced her!” Poplar screeched.

“What in the void are you talking about?”

“It was your people that _slaughtered_ her!”

Oh. All of the pieces came together in a distressing conclusion; Poplar’s guardian was one of the nine destroyed by the Reef’s mistake. And just like everyone else, she took out her anger on the warlock.

“Spectre, can you give us a moment?”

“But—,” the ghost objected.

“Please.” _Go visit Petra, maybe. Fill her in on what’s happened,_ she added through their link.

“Fine.” Away he went, disappearing into thin air.

Still, even with him gone, Poplar was still fuming in her rage. She rounded on the warlock, eye narrowed in displeasure as she spat out her words.

“You took away my everything.”

“ _I_ did nothing.”

“Of course you’d say that! Reefborn, never willing to accept their consequences!” Poplar paced through the air as she mocked the awoken.

“No, you don’t get it—,”

“Don’t you dare try to act all high and mighty, filth!”

Marjorle sighed; she’d really have to spell it out, wouldn’t she? “I. Was. Not. Alive.”

“Stop trying to pass blame off onto others!”

“I died in the Raze of Amethyst! Ever heard of it?! That was _before_ the incident!”

“How do I know that you weren’t involved before your first death?”

“I was a botanist! I grew _plants_! How many gardeners that you know are involved in warfare?” She gestured wildly, growing increasingly frustrated.

“That still doesn’t—,”

“Shut it. Get it through that thick shell of yours that not every awoken from the Reef is guilty. It was one woman who messed up, not an entire race of people.” Finally, it seemed that logic managed to get through to Poplar, for she fell silent.

“You have no idea what I went through.” The ghost started, bitter through and through.

“Still doesn’t excuse your behavior.”

“Me and her… we were like two halves of the same soul. Imagine having that ripped away from you.” So the relationship between Poplar and her guardian was much, much stronger than she’d previously thought. Not even her and Spectre were that close.

“I’m sorry. I feel for you, I truly do. But casting needless blame isn’t the right thing to do.”

“What else can I do?” Poplar sobbed, shell shaking around her core. “She was everything to me.”

“I don’t know,” murmured Marjorle, “but I do know that being so angry isn’t helping with your grief. Is it?”

“I don’t know.” Inside, Poplar knew that the warlock was right; she just didn’t want to accept it.

“Just think about it, okay? And I’m sorry if Spectre antagonized you. He’s just… protective.” All she got in reply was the ghost’s form of a nod before Poplar flew off to settle on the couch. Obviously, she was done talking. Marjorle sighed; these next few months were undoubtedly going to be an uphill battle.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
